“Tell me a story and the price can drop” I said in my ad on gumtree.co.za
“It’s for my triplets” said Bruce from KwaDukuza, so he got it for R500 instead of R600.
Category Archives: Family & Kids
Sand Forest
Sand Forest is a rare, very distinctive forest type with a unique combination of plant and animal species. As far as is known, this vegetation type is more or less restricted to ancient coastal dunes in northern KwaZulu-Natal and the extreme southern portion of Mozambique (together: Maputaland). Sand forest harbours many rare and unusual plant and animal species.
Sand Forest Lodge just east of Hluhluwe village on the road to Sordwana Bay is a lovely spot. We spent two nights there this week, the kids each taking a friend along.
More:
Sand forests are thought to be relics of coastal dune forests, which have been separated from the ocean for more than a million years as the shoreline has shifted slowly eastwards over the millennia. Dunes have accreted on the southeast African coastal plain since the Pliocene (around 5 million to 2.5 million years before present) and frequent sand mobilization events during climatic changes have resulted in some reworking of the dunes. The geological history of the region suggests that the current ecosystems here may be of recent derivation and many endemic plant taxa comply with the concept of neo-endemics (recent locally evolved species), and biological evolution (notably speciation) is still in an active phase.
Sand forest harbours many rare and unusual plant and animal species, including several Maputaland Centre endemics. Because of its restricted occurrence and unusual species complement, sand forest is perhaps the most unique plant community in the Maputaland Centre. Of the 225 Maputaland Centre plant endemic species, 30 are associated with it and 20 restricted to it. In the case of birds, Neergaard’s sunbird is strongly associated with it.
Plant species that characterise sand forest (licuati forest) are Drypetes arguta, Uvaria lucida subsp. virens, Cola greenwayi, Balanites maughamii, Psydrax fragrantissima, Hyperacanthus microphyllus, Dialium schlechteri, Pteleopsis myrtifolia, Ptaeroxylon obliquum, Croton pseudopulchellus and Newtonia hildebrandtii. The protruding crowns of many of the larger species are usually covered by epiphytes, such as the wiry orchid Microcoelia exilis and various lichens including Usnea spp. (Thanks wikipedia)
And boys will be boys:
~~oo0oo~~
Head-butting and Healing
Tom and I butted heads today. I decided to take time out and disappear for a quiet hour in a nature reserve. Just as I was about to leave Tom snuck into the back seat and lay down. On the way and the whole time there he slept.
I wandered around, staying near the bakkie, birding and snapping pics.
~~~oo0oo~~~
When we got home two hours later, he woke up and gave me a huge hug.
“Sorry Dad”.
“OK, thanks, m’boy. Sorry Tom”.
All is well with the world.
~~~oo0oo~~~
top pic from Amblers hiking club – thanks!
Minding Father
Tom is at Lungelo’s but he has to be at Kip McGrath extra maths at 8am so I call him and remind him to be at the gate at 7.15 sharp. Lungelo stays in the Westville Prison grounds.
He’s not that wide awake when I get there and protests at having to wake early AND do work IN THE HOLIDAYS! Do I understand the concept of “HOLIDAY”?
We’ll stop at Spar and get you something to drink and eat and you’ll be OK once we get there, my boy.
Well, I’m going to sleep straight afterwards and can I have a Monster energy drink please?
OK, fine.
Outside Kip he eats his smoked beef slices and sips his Monster. I watch a black-headed oriole and a golden-rumped tinker in the trees around us.
When its time to go in he says Please don’t let anyone finish my Monster. Put it in the fridge for me. (He’s going to walk home).
Take it with you and sip on it while working, I suggest.
No, he says, They’ll think you’re a bad Dad.
~~~oo0oo~~~
Urgent Bulk Purchase
Oh Emm Gee, another phase. Now we’re thirteen and we NEED to “get buff“. To bulk up. School starts in a week and five weeks of lying on the couch while I say “Come for a walk” is over. Suddenly, we now need to get fit and bulked up in the next couple days!
It’s 6.55pm and TomTom and his mate Francois who’s staying over NEED money and NEED to walk to Pick n Pay to buy “future life” a fake-promise cereal endorsed by people who will say anything for $$$. OK, OK, off you go, I say. It’s late, but PnP is just 200m up the road.
Pring from his phone: Dad, PnP is closed, can we go to Spar. Spar is 4km away and it’s 7.15pm. I ask: Don’t they close at 7.30? No at 8pm he says We can make it Dad!
I’m not going to stop him. Off you go.
Halfway through my apple crumble n custard and black coffee which I’m eating as part of my alternative Tim Noakes diet – the original one; my other diet is the Tim Noakes ‘Banting-type’ Diet – I have misgivings. His friend with him is an only child and his Mom once specifically worried about him not being able to ride a bicycle out in the big wide world, so maybe she wouldn’t approve of a 4km walk at 7.15 and a 4km walk back in the dark.
So I head off once I’m done to see how far they’ve got and to give them a lift. Just like most other Westville Moms.
Actually, Tom has ridden a lot and walked a lot and swam quite a lot these hols, so I do exaggerate somewhat.
They made it – I found them on their way back already.
Four Birthdays
It’s the fourth time we have celebrated your birthday without you. And it’s not the same. It was chaos, of course. After two weeks of hum n haw, the kids decided we needed to go to Butcher Boys in town for big steaks. Then they decided on John Dorys nearby for fish n chips. Then Jess decided not to go.
In the end TomTom, Lungelo & I went to the nearby centre. They each had a R99 mixed platter, I had steak and we brought two calamari n chips home to Jess & her friend Tarryn.
When they’d finished the boys walked home and I finished a second glass of wine and paid. Just before I left a lady at a nearby table came over. She knew Tom from aftercare and was all complimentary. I thanked her for helping to get the lil bugger to pass!
We missed you.
Fishermen’s Tales
Two avid fishermen, Lungelo and me went down to the sea. Or to the Umtamvuna River at The Old Pont. Lungelo and I were not the avid ones. That was Tommy and Ryan, passionate, persevering pêcheurs.
Fishermen in blue.
Luxury accommodation on the banks of the Umtamvuna.
Besides the river fishing I also took them to the rocks near the Port Edward lighthouse.
Lovely sunsets and one rain squall – with the boys’ tent left wide open, so the second night they had a bit of a damp night. The fishermen latched on to many, many fish, most of them BIG and desirable (yeah, right!). But they landed far fewer – and smaller – ones. Crabs plundering their bait gave them hours of amusement. All but one fish (used for bait) survived their endeavours I’m pleased to say (pathetic bunny-hugger that I am. Or is that guppy-hugger?).
Mkhuze’s Great
Some things I love about Mkhuze:
Those dirt roads between the fever trees (there’s lotsa tar too, these days).
Few people.
Polite people even at a lion kill (‘After you! No, after YOU!’).
Lots of birds.
African time; African efficiency. We had electricity – at times, but not at our site, which I found out after I’d set up camp fully. Couldn’t test, as the generator only runs from 5pm to 10am – which is plenty, but you can’t find out if your site is working if you arrive when it’s not running. No problem, I set up a field kitchen 60m away from my site. We had water – at times. Even hot water at times. The bins had monkey- and baboon-proof lids – some of them.
FRIENDLY inefficient staff: Got any charcoal? Yes. Where? There. You’d looked there, but you go and look again: fokol. Go back. Doesn’t seem to be any. Yes, it is there. Where? I show you. None. HAU!! It was here! Screech of laughter: Hau! So she goes and fetches extra from the stores, hosing herself at the fact that ‘Strue’s Bob, there wasn’t any when she thought there was!
At the waterhole a sexy young thing with a 400mm lens got chatting away to this 59yr old. She musta been 19 in the shade. Burbling away about look at that and watch here for the pygmy kingfisher and have you seen the lions behind that bush and the poor wildebees calf lost its mother and the lions nearly ate it and etc. Fairly unusual for a Seffrican she was. My 17yr old can seldom string two words together to a stranger!
Very little ranger or staff presence so the ous were up and out on game drives well before the meant-to-be time of 5am.
Patrick the ranger on a game drive in his open top Landie stopped me – he recognised us from two previous visits when we went on drives and walks with him – and asked again, ‘Where’s the boy?’ Remarkable really, as the one visit was in May and the other in 2009! I spose we do stand out a bit. I told him Tom thought he’d rather be eaten by a lion than endure two teenage girls for six days.
Mkhuze very dry and huge tracts recently burnt.
The water hole was muddy and hugely popular. Everyone took turns to churn up the mud and poo n pee in it!
As thirsty as they were (they would come running up to it, keen to drink) they showed great reluctance to actually start drinking. But they had no choice.
This morning one of the wildebeests was lying dead next to the edge. Unmarked.
We speculated one of the rhinos had reprimanded it (they had “baleka’d” anything that came near to them as we watched them drink).
The only thing that baleka’d them was a male warthog. When a rhino said to him voetsack, he said No, YOU voetsack and made the rhino move over. Courage!
~~~oo0oo~~~
Note to self: There’s LOTS that needs fixing with your camping equipment!
I forgot the braai grid and couldn’t find one in six shops in Mkhuze village 18km away. I took the wrong gas bottle, didn’t fit. No problem, the girls got cold food* and hot tea – I had grabbed the electric kettle from the kitchen as I left home.
As always, the fridge worked a treat, so in the heat they got plenty of ice-cold drinks and water.
Next time I’m gonna be SO organised . . .
*Don’t feel sorry for them! They got some toasted sarmies from the Rhino Dino once or twice – and Phindile also made us one lekker breakfast.
~~~oo0oo~~~
fokol – none
Hau! – goodness gracious me
baleka – move away! fuckoff! language isiZulu
voetsack – pr: footsack; move away! fuckoff! language Afrikaans
Tongue Piercing Avoided . . Wallet Pierced Instead.
So D-Day dawned today and I was trapped. She’s done all her homework, researched it, found a slash-for-cash artist, priced it, drawn her money and extracted a promise from me that I’d take her TODAY. How to get out of this? Jess, does your school even allow piercing? I ask.
Of course yes, Dad. Well, clever question that was.
Sudden inspiration! BRIBERY!
Jess, which would you rather have: A pierced tongue, or a notebook computer?
Ooh, that got her thinking.
A proper tablet, not a cheapie? Well, . . yes.
Hm. She lets me sweat. And can I still have my tongue pierced later? Well, yes, after school you’re on your own, kid.
A real tablet computer TODAY? Sure.
OK Dad, I’ll take the tablet, I won’t have my tongue pierced. I’ve decided and I’m sure about it.
Phew! I’m very relieved my girl, I really was worried and unhappy.
Then she drops her bombshell: I was having second thoughts myself, Dad!
Tongue safe – for now
Mates
Grade 7 classmates Thomas Swanepoel (whose Dad’s name is Peter Swanepoel) and Francois Swanepoel (whose Dad’s name is Peter Swanepoel) have become big mates. They slander each other thick n fast and play soccer & badminton together and braai together.
Their biggest shared passion is gaming on xBox and PS3. Today there was much noise and shooting and swearing and bombs going off as they sat shooting each other on-screen with one hand and chewing boerewors with the other..
His Resident Butler
I went to wake TomTom at 6.30am on a school day this week. No response to my gentle call even when I step up the volume.
I’m about to reach out and shake him when a voice comes from deep under-duvet:
Dad, when you run the shower it’s perfect. I can’t get it right like that.
Aargh! Tongue Piercing!
Dad, I NEED to have my tongue pierced.
WHUT? Sure. After you’ve left home and with your own money.
I have my own money, Dad I saved up for it.
WHUT? Then after you’ve left home.
No Dad, MOM SAID . . .
Thin ice here. Gotta think fast! Um, find out all about it. Tell me more. Then find out who does it in Durban and who has had it done and how good they are and how do we know they’re good and are they safe do they sterilise when can you eat afterwards . . . and what if the hole in your tongue makes a whistling noise when you talk . .
Dad! Relax! I’ll find out.
OK
I don’t mean “OK” – I mean find out.
I get it Dad!
WhattaSoftie!
After giving me a big hug and “Love you Dad!” last night Tom stepped up a notch this morning, shouting out “Wuv you Jess!” when his sister left for school! Amazing. A twelve year old boy. It did cross my mind that his birthday and Xmas are coming up, but I dismissed those thoughts! It’s because he’s a wonderful human being. With only a passing resemblance to that lil girl with
a curl in the middle of her forehead.
.
when she was good she was very very good – and
when she was bad she was horrid . .
Doctor Tommy Fever
I had a sick boy last night. Jess was away and it was just the two boys. I knew Tommy was sick when he only ate half his fried chicken.
“I’m shivering, Dad”, he said as he piled on a second duvet lying curled up in the armchair in front of the TV.
Let me feel you: You’re boiling, my man! Off with those duvets and all your clothes!
“But I’m cold Dad!”
Yes, you feel cold, but you’re hot as hades. I have to cool you down. I wet a cloth and sponged him down and gave him a dose of ponstan anti-fever muti. I had already given him an imodium after two runny tummy trips to the loo. Took him off to my bedroom and made him lie clad only in his underpants on the sheet and switched on the aircon.
“Dad,“ he says urgently, “I think I’ve got ebola, “ he says.
Uh huh? I ask. Why’s that?
“Well I read if you have a high temperature and a runny tummy and vomiting you’ve got ebola. Can ebola kill you Dad?”
Well, yes it can, but I don’t think you have ebola my boy.
“But I touched the mouse that Flaky (the snaky) threw up after I fed it to her,” he protests.
OK, we’ll monitor you fella, but remember bangbroek, you actually picked up the mouse with a plastic bag, so that shouldn’t be a problem.
“Will you take me to the doctor?”
Yes, if you’re still sick in the morning, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to cure this particular ebola.
“Mom would have taken my temperature, “ he says slyly, teasing me now that he’s feeling better.
You’re right, she would have. Silently, I wonder where her thermometer is.
“And she would have made me juice,” he grins, when I make him drink cold water.
Yeah, right! don’t push it! You might have tummy bugs and I’m not feeding them any sugar. I set the alarm for 1am to check if he needed more ponstan but when it rang I felt him and he was as cool as a cucumber.
“I’m fine Daddy. Thank you,” he mumbled and resumed his snoring.
Maybe he was practising for this outbreak four years ago, when he wore this apparently ebola-proof gear to a school dress-up day?
bangbroek – cautious fella
Hair Today
At last I get Jessie (kickin n screamin) to the hairdresser.
Her hair looks like she combed it with a firecracker (I should have taken a picture). She’s been washing it daily and tying it up in a bun. She’s not combing it all out daily.
I drop her off with Tom and buzz to work. They’ll walk back home via the shops.
“Just get a trim, don’t have it ‘straightened’ as you’ll be swimming all week – it’s not worth it” are my instructions.
So I get a whatsapp pic:
And then a hurried phone call:
“Don’t worry Dad, I paid for Jess to have her hair straightened with my own pocket money” says her loving younger brother! Talking fast, pre-empting a bollocksing. “My own pocket money” means “an advance which I have yet to ask you for”.
Knows how to arse-creep, that one.
I had also given them the grocery money (Cecelia is away), which is now diminished thanks to the extra hair spend.
“Dad, I bought you a rump steak and choc mint Ola ice cream”. Both his favourites.
No veggies.
I Was Young and Foolish
Today twelve year old Tom comes home with a long face.
Hey, Tom, how was yr day?
Half good.
Oh?
They confiscated my phone!
What? You actually took your phone to school?
Mm
How dumb was that?! *snigger*
Dad! Don’t rub it in! I’m suffering here!
*loud guffaws* followed by a sympathetic hug.
He took his cellphone to school and was busted. School rule: The phone is confiscated for the rest of the term! I laughed like a drain – even harder when he manfully tried to smile ruefully. Damn, Tom! I know Dad.
Tonight was Jessie’s school art exhibition and music and food evening. All three of us went, and Tom had to tell everyone who wanted to hear about his misfortune. Give him his due, he took it like a trooper. He knew he had blundered and was loved and the suffering was his alone.
Tomorrow’s Saturday and I’m working, so just before bed he comes to me with puppydog eyes and asks to please use the iPad tomorrow. I say, I dunno Tom, do you think we can give irresponsible, non-learning, non-listening type of people any treats whatsoever?
He implores: PLEEZ Dad, work with me! I’m hurting! I was young and foolish then, he says, I have matured, I’m a new person now! he beseeches.
A ten-hour turn-around.
no more selfies
~~~oo0oo~~~